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Eva Braun’s Diary

(February 6 - May 28, 1935)

The diary of Eva Braun with entries from February 6, 1935 to May 28, 1935 regarding her relationship with Adolf Hitler. The diary was found by the War Department’s Intelligence Division after World War II. She has just turned 23 and is unhappy with the lack of attention she is getting and talks of committing suicide.

February 6, 1935

I guess today is the right day to begin this masterpiece.

I have happily reached my twenty-third year, that is whether or not I am happy is another question. At the moment I am certainly not happy. That is because I have such high expectations of such an “important” day.

If I only had a dog, I wouldn’t be so alone; but I guess that is asking too much.

Mrs. Schauk came with flowers and a telegram as “ambassador.”

My whole office looks like a flower shop and smells like a mortuary I am really ungrateful, but I hoped so much to get a little Dachshund and now again nothing.

Perhaps next year or even after that; then it will be better suited to an incipient spinster.

Let me not give up hope. I should have learned patience by now.

I bought two lottery tickets today because I was convinced now or never – duda.

It seems as though I’ll never get rich. Can’t do anything about that.

Today, I would have gone to the Zugspitze with Herta, Gretl, Ilse and Mother and we would have live[d] like kings, because one always [h]as most fun when others share the happiness.

But the trip didn’t come off.

Today I’m going to eat with Herta. What else may a simple little woman of twenty-three do? Thus I’ll bring my birthday to a close with gluttony. Thus, I believe, I shall have acted in accordance with [unreadable] preferences.

February 11, 1935

He was just here, but no dog and no cupboard. He didn’t even ask me whether I had a birthday wish. So now I bought myself some jewelry. A necklace, earrings and a ring to match for fifty marks. Everything very pretty. I hope he likes it. If not he may buy me something himself.

February 1, 1935

It seems that the Berlin deal is really going to come off. That is I won’t believe it until I am in the Reichschancellery. I hope it’ll be an agreeable affair. Too bad that Herta can’t come along instead of Charlie. She would be a guarantee for a few happy days. This way there will probably be a big ado because I don’t think that Bruckner for a change will show his more charming side vis-à-vis Charlie.

I don’t dare to look forward to it yet, but it might turn out to be wonderful if everything goes well. Let’s hope so.

February 18, 1935

Yesterday he came quite unexpectedly and it was a delightful evening.

The nicest thing was that he is thinking about taking me out of the fire and – I don’t want to be too happy yet – to buy me a little house. I don’t dare think of it. It would be so wonderful. I wouldn’t have to open the door for our “honorable” customers and play salesgirl. Dear God, please make it come true within a reasonable period of time.

Poor Charlie is sick and can’t come to Berlin with us. She’s really unlucky, but maybe it is better that way. Maybe he would be very rude to her and then she would certainly be even more unhappy.

I am so infinitely happy that he loves me so and pray that it will always be like this. I should never want to be to blame if once he shot stop loving me.

March 4, 1935

I am again mortally unhappy. Since I can’t write him, this book must serve to assuage my pain.

He came Saturday the town of M’s ball took place.  Mrs. Schwarz had given us a loge ticket for it and so I was obliged to attend at all costs, especially since I had already accepted.

Then I spent a few wonderful hours with him until 12 o’clock and then went to the ball with his permission.

He promised that I would see him on Sunday. In spite of the fact that I called up from the Cateria and that I sent a message that I am waiting for his news, he simply drove off to Feldafing. He even refused Hoffman’s invitation to tea and supper. One may look at everything from two sides; perhaps he wanted to be alone with Dr. G. who was also here, but he could have let me know. I was at Hoffman’s on pins and needles, thinking all of the time, he might come now.

We went to the train later, because he had decided to leave, but only arrived in time to see the rear lights. Hoffman and the others had again left others too late and thus I couldn’t even say goodbye. Probably I’m too pessimistic again. I hope but he hasn’t been here now for fourteen days and I am so unhappy and have no peace of mind. Incidentally I don’t [know] why he should be angry with me – perhaps because I went to the ball – but then he gave me his permission.

I am uselessly wracking my brain as to why he should be driving away without saying goodbye.

Hoffman gave me a ticket for tonight’s performance of “Venetian Night,” but I won’t go. I am much too unhappy.

March 11, 1935

I only with I were seriously ill for at least eight days and to hear nothing of him. Why doesn’t’ something happen to me? Why do I have to suffer like this? I wish I had never seen him. I am desperate. I am now going to buy more sleeping tablets, at least then I’ll be half dazed and won’t think about him so much. Why doesn’t the devil come and get me; I’m sure it’s nicer there than here.

For three hours I stood outside the Carlton and had to watch while he brought flowers for [?]ndra and invited her for supper. (Marginal Note: Just my crazy imagination, 25 March) He is only using me for very definite purposes. (Marginal Note: Baloney! probably also 26 March)

When he says he loves me, he takes it about as seriously as his promises which he never keeps. Why does he torture me so much instead of just putting an end to the whole thing?

March 16, 1935

He went to Berlin again; if only I didn’t go off the beam whenever I see him less than usually. Actually it’s quite natural that he shows no great interest in me at present, sincere there is so much going on politically.

I’m going to take a trip to the Zugspitze with Gertl today; then maybe my stupidity will subside. Everything has always turned out alright in the end so far, and it will be the same this time. One must have patience that’s all.

April 1, 1935

Yesterday we were invited by him for supper at the “Vierjahreazeiten.” I had to sit next to him for three hours and couldn’t say a word to him. When taking leave, he handed me an envelope containing money, as he had done once before. If only he had at least added a greeting or a kind word. I would have been so happy, but he never thinks of anything like that.

Why doesn’t he go to Hoffman’s to eat? There at least I would have him to myself for a few minutes. I only wish he would not come anymore until his home is ready.

April 29, 1935

Things are tough; very much so, in every respect. I keep humming to myself “Things will improve,” but it doesn’t help much. The house is ready but I can’t go to visit him; “Love” does not seem to be on his program at present. No that he is back in Berlin, I feel a little better; but there were days during the last week when I did my share of crying at night, especially since I spent Easter at home by myself.

I’m getting on everybody’s nerves because I want to sell everything from my clothes down to my photo camera and even theater tickets. Oh well, things will improve. After all, my debts are not that bad

May 10, 1935

According to Frau Hoffman’s kind and equally tactless remarks, he now has a substitute for me. Her name is WALKURE and she looks it, including her legs. But these are the shapes that appeal to him. If that is true, he will soon have annoyed her till she gets slim, unless she has Charlie’s talent for thriving on worries. Worry seems to increase her appetite.

If Frau H’s observations should turn out to be true, it is mean for him not to tell me. After all he should know me well enough to realize, that I would never stand in his way, if he would discover another romantic. Why should he worry about what happens to me? I’ll wait till the third of June. By thin it will be three months since our last meeting, and I’ll as him for an explanation by mail. Now tell me again that I’m not modest.

The weather is gorgeous, and I, the mistress of Germany’s and the world’s greatest man, have to sit at home and look at it through the window.

He has so little understanding and still makes me appear distant when his friends are around. Well, one makes one’s own bed…. I guess it really is my fault, but it is just one of those things for which he likes to blame someone else. This period of fasting won’t last forever, and then it will taste that much better. Too bad thought that it just happens to be spring.

May 28, 1935

I have just sent him a letter, one that is decisive for me. Will he consider it as important as I do? Well we’ll see. If I don’t get an answer by ten tonight, I’ll take my twenty-five pills and lie down peacefully. Is it a sign of the terrific love of which measures me, that he hasn’t spoken a kind word to me for three months? Agreed that he’s been busy with political problems, but have not things eased off? And how about last hear when he had lots of worries with Rohm and with Italy and still found time for me? True, I’m not in a position to judge whether the present situation isn’t much worse, but after all a few kind words to Frau Hoffman would hardly have taken much time. I fear there is some other reason. It’s not my fault; certainly not. Maybe it’s another woman, although I doubt that it’s Walkure. What other reason could there be? I can’t find any.

Goddamn it I’m afraid I won’t get an answer today. I only [wish] someone would help me; everything is so hopeless. Maybe my letter reached him at an inopportune time, or maybe I shouldn’t have written at all. Whichever it is, the uncertainty is much worse than even a sudden end would be.

Dear God, please make it possible that I speak to him today; tomorrow will be too late.

I have decided on thirty-five pills so as to make death certain this time. If he would at least have someone call up for him.

Source: NARA.